First Gear
by perrialcott
Summary: Draco wants to learn how to drive and Harry just can't say no. HPDM fluff.


Hey all. New to posting HP stories but not new reading. I actually had some semblance of an idea of writing a Harry/Draco story roiling around in my head for a few months now and finally decided this was going to be the first story. This is a tasting for a larger, multi-chapter story I've got an idea around but for now, I'll see how this goes. Please let me know how you like it!

* * *

"I want that one," announces Draco Malfoy loudly and together he stands with Harry Potter under an amber sky that is streaked with the inky blue remains of nighttime. It is so early in the morning that Harry would not be remotely surprised if this man's piercing declaration has woken half of their neighbors and splintered the peace that covers the empty streets.

" _Look,_ darling. Are you looking?" Draco rams an elbow into Harry's chest in excitement and his coffee is everywhere instantly before the dark haired wizard has even has a chance to take a sip in the doorway of Monmouth.

Harry closes his eyes in exasperation. Huffs a breath. "I'm looking."

He's been out of bed for all of ten minutes, pulled from the balmy snarls of sheets by a restless Draco for their yearly ritual of coffee and Christmas shopping and already he's regretting every second.

"It's brilliant."

"You don't even know how to drive." Harry's eyes are downcast and inspecting the blossoming stain on his pea coat but he already knows what Draco is referring to because it's all the man has been talking about since he took one _sodding_ ride in Arthur Weasley's magic-mangled car weeks ago.

Along with the sudden interest in cars, Draco had also taken away an irritating likening to Adele, who had been on repeat the entire drive despite Harry's pleas for a different song.

 _Driving's powerful,_ Draco had said wistfully, _steering and navigating_. Shining eyes the color of a frosted winter lake turned on him, it was all Harry could do not to dampen this newfound intrigue for Muggle inventions. _Like being on a broom again, like we would fly at school_.

Those words had struck Harry deep in his gut and he knew he had lost the argument right up front.

"You'll teach me, darling," Draco says simply and it is at this sentiment that Harry looks up, brought back to the present. He's treated to a toothy grin from the blonde. Flaxen hair is ruffling in the sparkling winter air and a smidge of foamed milk is on a pink lip.

Harry returns the smile, annoyance sliding off and he presses his own cold mouth to his boyfriend's.

"I should have never insisted you take that drive with us," he mutters between chilly kisses. He feels the curve of a smirk against his lips before Draco draws away, thrusts a finger at the formidable, expensive-looking and pearl-grey car parked in front of the coffee shop.

"I want that one," he repeats.

Harry arches an eyebrow. Draco's not one for subtly in the slightest, especially this time of year.

The blonde mumbles a cleaning spell at Harry's coat, turns up the collar for him to protect against the nippiness, adjusts the pristine navy scarf, and then strides off in the direction of Convent Garden.

Harry barely has time to lift the remains of his coffee up in front of him before he feels a great tug on his arm and the paper cup flies out of his grip and into a snow-speckled bush, gone for good.

* * *

"Good morning, trouble," a throaty and posh voice purrs in Harry's ear, followed by elegant fingers driven through his perpetually disorderly dark hair and a tender kiss to the temple. "Happy Christmas."

Harry cracks an emerald eye. He fights the curve of a smirk that threatens the dead-to-the-world act he's been putting on since Draco awoke. In truth, he's been up for hours in anticipation for what is waiting downstairs for his boyfriend.

"Happy Christmas to you too," says Harry. He arches into the hand above, feeling much like a contented cat when Draco continues to stroke through the unruly strands. The wizard resists the urge to spring from bed and drag the blonde with him, instead electing to turn to the expectant gaze across the pillow, noting how Draco's eyes turn pewter when tipped toward the light on the landing outside the bedroom.

"You're trouble," Draco's mouth twists up and Harry is sure his own stare is intense and searching as well. Distracting.

As if reading his thoughts, Draco bounds suddenly from the bed and rips away the covers cloaking Harry. "Up," he insists, ignoring Harry's attempt to dive back under the warmth. "You're being distracting on purpose. Presents first, sex later."

"I only got you something small," Harry reaches for his glasses that perch askew on the tip of his nose. Under their wrought iron bed, he bites his lip and swallows the smile. Drags out the carved wooden box that fits in the palm of his hand.

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

Draco's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot upward at the unexpectedly little gift he's being presented with. It's a good thing in Harry's book because rarely is the young Malfoy surprised these days.

"Is it..." his voice trails off. "I mean, we've only..."

"It's not a ring, Draco."

The blonde exhales visibly and narrows his glare at Harry, but there's a positive twist of lips that accompanies the expression. "I knew that," he whispers more to himself and he reaches for the lid.

The dark haired wizard watches how the handsome face in front lifts from curiosity into absolute delight at what is in the box. The previously darkened eyes are now light and silvery with excitement, the stony mouth broken up in an all-out smile.

"Oh, you're such trouble, darling," Draco repeats and before Harry has a chance to respond he's being hauled from the bedroom with great strength, feet slipping on the hardwood of the stairs and the stone of the hallway, all the way into the frighteningly frosty daylight where he jumps from one foot to the other in the open doorway.

Draco has abandoned the box on the foyer table in favor of the automatic car key inside and is pressing the lock and unlock buttons over and over again. He stands outside in rumpled pajama bottoms and studies intently as the lights beneath the door handles glow when he presses unlock and the headlights blink at their new owner when the car locks.

"And it's silver," Draco breathes lightly. He gives a tentative stroke over the sparkling roof before turning and fixing Harry with heated eyes and a bottom lip drawn under neat, white teeth.

Harry knows that look, feels the sudden heat gathering low in his belly.

"Get inside, Harry Potter, because I'm not quite ready to christen _my_ car yet."

* * *

The car remains parked in front of number twelve Grimmauld Place for a few days, though not without it's fair share of visitors. Ron, in particular, is rather taken by the "warming charmed front seats" and the multiple gadgets affixed to the dashboard, while Hermione insists of selecting herself as chief inspector and takes Draco through the manual with rapt enthusiasm.

 _If you lower this, your windshield wipers will come on, you see_ , she demonstrated to the car's owner.

 _Bloody brilliant_ , Ron had agreed from where he was on his hand and knees in the backseat looking under the car mats.

It is a week past the snowstorm that whirls around London when Harry is reluctantly roused from a deep slumber by Draco. Today is the day he had agreed to teach the blonde wizard how to drive, although in his mind that pronouncement had not included waking at dawn to begin.

Knowing he has thoroughly thumbed the manual to bits and is armed with quick intelligence and determination, Harry is not surprised when Draco easily maneuvers them out of the parking spot and into the empty streets of London.

In fact, if Harry peeks through the chocolate-brown fringe that hangs in his eyes, he actually gets quite a good look at Draco's profile. His sharp expression appears as if set in marble and Harry swells with pride in his chest.

 _Quite a handsome driver_ , he thinks to himself.

"How's it coming?"

"Excellent." Draco's eyes flick briefly to Harry in the passenger seat before they are once more trained fiercely on the slushy road ahead. He shoots a finger up to turn on the right turn signal and the car slows to almost a halt before they turn and they continue to do this around and around the block before Harry decides to speak.

"You know you can turn left too."

"But you haven't told me how to go left yet," Draco's voice is edged with only slight panic.

"Well." Harry pauses. "It's the same but you have a left turn lane. And you have to wait for the light to go green. Try this one up here."

He notes the slender hands tightening on the steering wheel but Draco glides the car effortlessly into the lane and stops behind the economical Prius ahead (which Harry quite fancied when looking for cars, rather than the silver beast Draco lusted after).

It's another hour around London and a few encounters with gnarly traffic before the blonde wizard relaxes into the drive, confident Harry can see by the fact that he's no longer leaning so far into the steering wheel that his eyelashes practically graze the glass of the windshield.

"Fancy some music?"

"If it won't distract you. You're doing very well," praises Harry and is rewarded with another wide grin and Draco settles into his heated seat and taps the button for the radio.

They listen for a while to Muggle Christmas music, idling in Fulham traffic momentarily, before Harry suddenly hears very familiar piano notes warble through the radio.

"Draco, no."

" _Oh_ ," the blonde's face curls into a decidedly devious smile. "But Draco, yes."

"Not again, please." Harry closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the cool glass of the window, cursing Arthur Weasley and his penchant for contemporary _oh-but-the-kids-listen-to-it_ music.

Draco turns up the radio even louder until Harry can barely discern his own thoughts.

 _"Hello_ ," Draco sings.

"Draco, stop."

 _"It's me..."_

"Pull over. Turn the car off."

" _I've been wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet_?"

"No," Harry folds his arms over his chest. "It's time to go back home or give me a go-"

" _Hello from the other side_ ," Draco all but yells, thrusting a performance-grade hand into the air as he drives on, clearly having the time of his life in his new car and listening to Adele.

"Come on, Harry. Sing."

Harry's mouth twitches in response, refusing to give in to the unfolding sight beside him.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco shouts over the music. He makes another right turn and drives straight on past Grimmauld Place. "That I'm the better singer?"

At this, Harry's mouth drops open and, really, he wants to ignore the sentimental insult and carry on sulking but by the way Draco's grinning at him and making constant right turns around the neighborhood, he just can't.

And so he breaks.

" _So hello from the other side_ ," he joins in. " _I must have called a thousand times._ "

Over the gearshift, he rests a hand on Draco's thigh and squeezes as they sing together in Draco's car and drive back into London to begin the circuit again.

* * *

Well, I hope you liked it! Let me know in a review below.

Peri x


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